California sat in flames
on my last night. In
one sky the sun lay
pink ablaze, in the other
the moon hung high
awhispering. The day drifted
into gray night, or both
at the same time, something
or other. Like another empty
drudge we waved and said
our goodbyes - the day
and me that is - without really
turning to look
back - not because we
didn't care but because it didn't
really matter. Like all
the scorched gray we're just
moving on and along, without much
direction; forward could be
up or left, right or down, or backwards. The moon
takes charge and smiles through
the darkness. With a sigh
the two of us fall from
ahigh and disappear the next morning.
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